Made For Your Disposal
by BlackNevermore
Summary: Lets push the Weiss envelope, throw in some technology, add some faunus who have been stripped of their will, and turn everything on its head. Besides, why did Weiss accept Blake anyways? This is dark. Later, perhaps even dirty. Morbid, future chapters will carry an M rating for every element of mature content known to mankind. Rating changes from T to M at the end of chapter 3.
1. Chapter 1

A very sterile large room. Red dull lighting, just strong enough to ensure that the room's occupants would not easily trip on any otherwise unseen object. The reflection of the red lighting off the shined and buffed floors made for an interesting environment. Multiple cylindrical test tubes, large enough to fit an adult human or faunus lined the wall opposite from the doors. Cat faunus children fill these cylenders, one per tube. The interior of the liquid fulled tubes had a red glow to it, probably due to interior lighting. Consoles filled the room, presumably to sustain the series of naked test subjects which occupied the cylinders. The cylinders were shaded below the collarbone, a feature perhaps temporarily used for the guests known to be coming. People wearing lab coats and name tags, occupying the space behind the computer consoles. Two young girls, of ages four and six trail their father. The younger of the two somewhat clinging to her older sister. Both girls in their nightgowns, the father in his suit.

"Daddy, why are the boys in the bottles naked?"

Smiling down on his blunt and rarely shy daughter, came a simple response.

"Because the men in the lab coats said they need to be."

After a somewhat brief silence, came another question from the same girl. Adjusting her white skirt and shifting in the high heels that she found most uncomfortable, the innocence in her voice was almost heavy.

"Daddy, why are there boys in giant bottles?"

Dropping down to one knee, the father came to face his daughter.

"The men in the lab coats are good at what they do. I wanted them to make me better guards. You remember how... Disloyal guards made your mother go away, right?"

Nodding again in a somewhat somber matter, the explanation continued even further.

"Weiss, we found that making guards of our own, and changing them from the very beginning to promise to make very good guards."

Tilting her head to one side in a quizzical manner, the young Schnee offered yet another question.

"The boys in the giant bottles... They're all faunus... Like the guards, that made mommy go away..."

The bitterness in the voice of Weiss's father was nearly palatable, the answer more so a retort than the wise answer that the young girl had really needed.

"Those... Things were broken. So I broke them, and used something called their DNA to make new guards. These ones are better. From rebirth, these men in white coats will teach them better than any real parent. We. Will. Be. Safe."

Somewhat fearful, came a gentle reproach from the daughter. Some of the scientists had begun to quietly listen in, much to both of the Schnee's awareness.

"Daddy... You hurt people? Thats wrong..."

Rising to his feet with a certain anger and strength, came a decision which would shape the Schnee reality for many years to come.

"This is the penance that those men had paid for breaking this family. I chose irony to be their punishment, yes... I chose this for us three. What hurt us will become what protects us. You now have two options. Be a good girl, and apologize for your disrespect, and I will award you with a unique guard, these men will teach him in ways that you will find less cruel. That, or remain with something more of... My own choosing."

Walking up to a test tube, staring up at one of the modified faunus children under genetic modification, she carefully looked at the boy's face. It seemed gentle. Peaceful. His hairless head and cat ears reminded Weiss of the young pets that one of her friends kept. The girl knowing her father, this boy had something of a brutal life ahead of him. But if she swallowed this early notion of pride she carried, she could help someone.

"I'm sorry, daddy..."

* * *

Many Years Later

* * *

Scrambling in a semi-composed manner, the now older Weiss was running through her vast bedroom, dishing countless orders of clothes to pack to a series of nearly identical looking cat faunus teenagers. The dress boots and primarily black wear of these dark haired teenagers, paired with the sadistic subtle gleam in their eyes made for very intimidating and potentially dangerous With Weiss in her regular wear and the dozen faunus in their uniforms as ordered by "Mr. Schnee". Asides from the somewhat different facial structure of the boys in black, only their nametags which each had individual numbers marked on them carried any suggestion of individuality. The only thing that stood out in this situation, was one individual faunus dressed in dark jeans, a plain collared t-shirt, similar to the other male cat faunus only in footwear.

However, there was one other factor which made the casually dressed faunus stand out from there others. His voice was a bit deeper, the tone of his voice gentle in comparison to the potentially blood thirsty teenagers that reeked of military-esque organization. There was no question that you could have a conversation with this particular faunus without fearing for your life. Pausing, this unique faunus approached Weiss with a name tag on his chest. It read as: "0-4-2".

"Perhaps it would be best if you conserved your voice, and used your scroll to delegate orders rather than straining your voice any further, Miss."

The faunus was right. The concept of packing in preparation for her first day at Beacon was already tense. Verbally organizing her father's thugs could be stressful, particularly on her vocal cords. The answer which the heiress would provide stood as proof of the degree to which the girl's nerves were pressured.

"What... Do you mean?"

Offering a gentle, understanding smile, the faunus continued.

"Your scroll can send direct commands to us, isn't that right?

Pressing his index finger to the side of his temple, the cat faunus reminded Weiss of the control chips implanted at the tip of their spines. This meant that any Schnee could force these faunus to any command, overriding their very minds provided that they were in wireless range by the use of their scroll. Speaking to the droned humanoids was simply a waste of time when at the press of the button for simpler commands, or perhaps a written message for the more complex orders, the very will of these beings would be lost. The only condition, was as to who controlled what droned faunus. Both Weiss and her sister Winter each had one faunus to themselves. Their father, however, effectively had an armed service.

"Send me a list of what you want through your scroll, and I'll coordinate the others in packing. Take a break, Miss Schnee, relax."

A light grin threatening to break across Weiss's lips, the girl conceded to her servant by an extent.

"You know I hate using these things, unit 0-4-2. I'll write a list on paper instead."

Tilting his head slightly forward, the faunus unit of designation 0-4-2 answered gratefully.

"The compassion you offer to us drones is remarkable. You yourself are aware of how the scroll commands feel... Cold."

Once getting paper and pen and hastily scribbling out a list, Weiss handed the paper to the unique faunus unit. After doing so, she left her room to the slaved faunus, thinking to herself as she walked.

_It hurts me more than it hurts you. _


	2. Chapter 2

Standing at the expansive entrance of the Schnee mansion, the endgame of this shouting match between father and daughter was beginning to draw to a close.

"I thought that whatever happened to unit 0-4-2 was my choice!"

Weiss Schnee was not by any means pleased. While her nerves did recover from her morning of packing (thanks to unit 0-4-2), this evening was supposed to be her evening. Something to celebrate her going off to Beacon, something that few Schnees had managed.

"Did you forget already? I invested in the very technology responsible for the existence of ALL the units! Either comply and confirm fifteen minutes before people begin to arrive, or I'll use my scroll to deploy an override command... Actually... I may as well send him to the barracks."

He said it. The two trump cards which Mr. Schnee always had in his back pocket. The first trump is the most obvious: he could override, even block out either of his daughter's commands. The second trump? Usually, the faunus units would all sleep in a communal barracks. However, unit 0-4-2 had difficulties inside the barracks, due to his different psychological nature. Effectively, this unique unit belonging to Weiss was the same as the rest, but he simply wasn't a sociopath. He did things differently. Sure, he killed like all the others, but unit 0-4-2 was not consumed by the thirst for violence which captivated the others. Psychologically, unit 0-4-2 was the polar opposite to his test tube brothers. It hurt the unit, as the other faunus units were the closest biological thing he had to family, but it was always fine for him. Weiss was always there instead.

Yes, unit 0-4-2 was identical to the others in every way, except in the one area that mattered the most. The result was that the barracks became a hostile environment for the gentler faunus, but Weiss solved that matter easily, mostly since she felt responsible: she was the reason why the unit functioned differently. The unit was placed in a bedroom with a direction connection to Weiss's room, something that nobody had any issues with for one explicit reason. Mr. Schnee gave the particular unit even stricter rules of conduct through his scroll. However, the nature of this arrangement was not seen as a right, but a privilege.

"Fine..."

The particular Weiss stormed off, not ever happy to concede anything concerning of the faunus unit to her father. Weiss always saw herself as the guardian to the unit, even though the unit existed more or less as her personal guard. Tasteful ironies aside, unit 0-4-2 had essentially become Weiss's mostly sentient cat. Much to the heiress's dissatisfaction, unit 0-4-2 didn't exactly fit in her purse that easily.

Walking back up the expansive stairs to the joined rooms, Weiss scowled to herself, annoyed at losing that spar with her father. Entering through unit 0-4-2's room since it was unlocked, the Ice Queen found her unit sitting alone in his wooden chair by the window. Upon entering, his head turned to the door to nod a silent though friendly greeting. As Weiss approached, 0-4-2 got up from his chair, ready to surrender the bit of furniture to the heiress. In a tone of voice not unlike that of a puppet, the faunus began to speak.

"Miss Schnee, unit zero dash four dash two welcomes yo-"

Before the docile unit could finish, Weiss snapped a cold retort.

"Didn't I name you!?"

As Weiss plopped down into the chair in a very un-ladylike fashion, the unit droned on.

"Miss Schnee, uni-"

The unit changed his voice to something a bit warmer as the Schnee crossed her arms, nearly ready to throw metaphorical icicles at the cat. With the deep and gentle tone that was familiar to Weiss, the unit tried again.

"Hello, Weiss. I see that your day has suddenly become just a little more eventful."

Her stance melting gradually, the answer was only moderately stiff.

"Dad insists on something... Again. The jeans and t-shirt will have to go, for the evening."

It seemed that the Heiress had assumed the friendly manner at which she would address Donovan when they were alone: as the sort of friend, a sort of guardian, but moreover as her counterpart to crime. The only obscurity is if Weiss would ever be able to hold down such a friend without the presence of technology to enforce loyalty, and if Donovan would even tolerate the Schnee without his circumstance ensuring his loyalty.

The previous is irrelevant to Donovan at this time, due to that same circumstance. If he did or did not want this, is irrelevant, because it is his reality, and perhaps he may never understand the concept of freedom to change. To take his situation into his own hands, and break his semi-tangible chain. Philosophy, autonomy, and and Donovan's grasp of these things aside, something far more important has presented itself: fashion.

"This is the clothing that you assigned to me, Weiss. Has it become unsuitable?"

Using the tips of her fingers to massage the side of her head, the Heiress found herself frustrated with the unit, but far more bitter towards her father.

"He wants you to wear that dress uniform he puts those faunus units in. The guy wont even let me put you in a tuxedo instead, it has to be the uniform."

Now catching on, 0-4-2 voiced his new found understanding. It had been some time before Donovan had managed to acquire the skill to take Weiss's vague hints, apply them to the situation, and reach an accurate conclusion. Indeed, understanding the second language of females was something which took time. Are all woman like this? Donovan wouldn't know. Weiss was the only female he knew, having only 'brothers' and 'enriched training' in his life.

"You fear that he intends to keep the uniform on me once you leave to Beacon. You fear that I will be broken and scrolled into the monstrosities that are my brothers."

The dread in her voice as real as the chair she sat on, Weiss confirmed the unit's inquiry.

"Yes, Donovan... Exactly that. Tell me, how well would you fit in a large suitcase?"

At this point, Donovan's voice went back to its previous mechanical gait. As he spoke, he stood made his way to the door.

"I have received orders to open the door, Miss Schnee. Your father wishes to speak to you."

Very much like a refined butler, the unit proceeded to open the door. If a person had not heard the conversation which the Master and man-servant had indulged in, then it would seem that Donovan was not something that should have a name. Not a person, but another mechanism which kept the house of Schnee running smoothly when dealing with the delicate matter of the household's Heiress.

Entering the room, the head of the house took the seat opposite from Weiss for himself. Not too long after the second Schnee's entrance, a cart was pushed in by different male cat faunus. Additional faunus had also entered the room, carrying portable one person tables. Placing these tables before each of the Schnees, the other faunus had left the room together: a rehearsed act, making clear that these faunus were not only security but filled a servile role.

The contents of the cart effectively summarized to tea (for those who aren't British, tea time = lunch time) where its contents were concerned, but it was the details of this cart which hinted towards the nature of this little meet. There were two teacups, two sets of silverwear, two large cloth napkins, and two deserts. The length of preparation that clearly went in to the preparation of this two course meal was not accidental. To the first time observer, one would assume that the eldest daughter and father always had lunch together, but that observer would be overlooking the existence of the other Schnee child.

A brief mental calculation by Donovan using the information stated in the previous paragraph, and the fact that he could hear yelling just moments previously led him to a state of greater alertness. Something underhanded is about to happen. In reaction, using the link between Weiss's scroll and Donovan's nerve functions, the faunus took advantage of the link, and sent the girl a brief warning message. Weiss's scroll chirping an alert thus causing the Heiress to check her messages briefly, Donovan then continued on, setting table cloths and pouring tea for the two.

Opening the conversation, started the father. How either faction of these peace talks could now sit face to face was truly extraordinary, given their recent shouting match.

"Weiss, I have been planning to give you a present, seeing how Beacon has decided to offer its entry exam, but I've been doubting if had the responsibility."

Naturally interested, Weiss politely answered.

"I'm interested, Daddy."

As unit 0-4-2 laid the web of silverware on the two small tables, Mr. Schnee continued in a businesslike manner.

"Its simple, really. Rather than you ending..."

Briefly pausing, Mr. Schnee used his scroll to order Donovan to come closer. The male Schnee continued on.

"Unit, you are ordered to identify yourself!"

Snapping to attention, the unit answered.

"I am unit zero dash four dash two, Mr. Schnee."

Taking the saucer and tea cup in front of him, the man paused to sip his drink. After placing the very fine china back down, he continued.

"When I chose to have the control system on you and your brothers placed on the spinal cord rather than the brain itself, it was because I wanted something more than mindless drones. Simulating ideal brain functions is just a waste of research funds, when a working brain can be grown and indoctrinated. Now I have the perfect servant base: well trained, perhaps even elite guards. A loyal system that has been shaped by etiquette and the house rules I had made. A system capable of compensating for any broken or damaged elements, inside and outside of combat. The imagination needed to reach conclusions that artificial intelligence could never find. And the ability to mass produce this living element, and profit from it. And its nearly complete."

Sensing that the male Schnee was preparing her for something, she tentatively used a question to try and figure out what her father was up to.

"Is this good news, Daddy? Or bad news?"

Smiling, the two had finished their meal. As more tea was poured, and empty plates were exchanged for plates of cake, the man continued.

"Its both. The units are certainly alive, and I intend to send at least one to Beacon to gain the knowledge needed to train the others even further. This faunus unit of yours would be the perfect candidate, seeing as how he didn't turn out to be a sociopath like the others. As a living creature that is not of Grimm, he may have an aura, but none of the units actually have a semblance."

As Weiss answered, the other Schnee enjoyed his desert with his smile. It seemed that things were just deserts for him, even with news that would seem to hinder his plans.

"I expected that Beacon's headmaster would be... Hesitant to allow genetic experiments to attend his school? Besides, zero four two would be at a disadvantage without a semblance, throwing him into any arena or stage like that would be like murder."

After swallowing his cake, the sly father continued.

"An upgrade has been developed, and a variant of it custom designed to zero four two's physio-chemical makeup, nervous system, and synaptic patterns is ready for installation. A brief surgery that has a five minute recovery requirement is all that is needed to even the odds."

Decided to start on her own cake, Weiss answered just before taking her first bite.

"The modifications you made to their genetic code has actually been surprising, when I looked into it. You didn't flat out make them physically stronger, but you gave them thicker skin, stronger internal organs, and a bunch of other genetic modifications that let them run harder. To resist radiation at unnatural levels of efficiency, resist fire and ice as if it were child's play, easily tolerate electric shocks... Even poisonous gasses aren't very efficient against faunus units. You make them durable, not physically stronger. So knowing you... Let me guess. More technology?"

Nearly laughing during a mouthful of cake, the father quickly swallowed his last bit of desert down quickly.

"Actually, you're right. This addition is just a small addition allowing these units to use their mind to connect to WiFi, Bluetooth, and satellite signals. The kind of information he can take and send is limited, to eliminate any chance of him getting any software viruses, but I intend to install all the basic functions of our scrolls into the faunus. Imagine, the ability to access the internet to gain any information, listen to any communication, send the basic commands into hostile computer systems to force shutdowns and collapses."

Raising her eyebrows, Weiss had to admit the impressive nature of this simple surgery.

"Now I can just ask zero four two for just about any fact. But why do I need this?"

Once the two had finished their cake, Donovan took their plates, the cart now a collection of empty, dirty dishes.

"Weiss, you're going to sneak Donovan in, and I'm going to get Headmaster Ozpin to accept him as a student. Beacon and Vale will not have any secrets by the end of the year."


	3. Chapter 3

Its the morning after the party. The rather short party. It panned out to be more so a business conference for her father, but Weiss was fine with that. Instead, she spend the evening removing the long list of restrictions which her father had coated Donovan with. Restrictions that somehow limited the unit down to his personality, The result was something spectacular, unleashing a very strange personality that Weiss found herself delighted with. The cataclysm had resulted in Weiss's father being moderately thrilled, as much as someone more interested in the scientific side of the revelation could even try to be. Nonetheless, the result was the patriarch's insistence that the faunus's regular wear of dark jeans and a t-shirt be altered. In result, the unit seemed far better dressed than the previous with his regular dark jeans, but a dress shirt and tweed sports jacket on top.

Perhaps the call to different wear was something of a fashion based peace treaty and compromise between the father and daughter, and perhaps unit 0-4-2 had become Mr. Schnee's favorite lab experiment, but all the same it made Weiss a bit more at ease. After calling for an extra suitcase that artfully hid its air holes, the human Heiress and experimental faunus sat side by side on Weiss's bed. The large suitcase rested in front of the motley pair, as the two soon-to-be students looked the daunting task in the face. The newly refined faunus, no longer a semi-mindful automation but something far more self controlled had open the gates for conversation.

"Its like faunus tetris."

Affirming his statement, the Heiress in command chose to confirm.

"Or cat based Jenga. But with only one cat."

Curiously scratching one of his ears, a rather curiously enjoyable element that he recently discovered himself, Donovan offered another perspective.

"What be this Tetris and Jenga? I know not of these things. I just googled popular classic puzzle games and came up with Tetris."

Flicking one of Donovan's black velvet cat ears, causing Donovan to flinch in a somewhat comical catlike manner, the girl got to her feet and opened the suitcase.

"Alright Donovan, get in the box."

Pouting, the cat faunus crossed his arms.

"Weiss, Boxes are only fun because they keep the top open. That doesn't look fun."

Giving Donovan the icy glare, the Heiress countered with equal sass.

"Don't make me use the scroll."

The little cat ears which regularly remained alert and perky had dropped, as he awkwardly began to try and fit his long, tall and slim self into the suitcase.

"This will just be an hour or two, right, Weiss?"

With only his head sticking out, and Donovan's very sad ears and face, Weiss did the one thing that she had been sorely tempted to do since the appearance of this new personality. She spared a hand to scratch one of his ears, causing that one ear in question to perk back up while the other remained limp.

"Don't worry. Once we get there, it'll all be fine."

The very notion of Weiss comforting someone who was essentially a moderate mix between servant, utility, pet, and maybe perhaps superficial friend (although her oldest friend beyond her sister) as an equal was something that the Heiress found to be strange... But people pet their pets, right? She knew full well of her father's distaste for the faunus race in general, but perhaps the unique faunus unit could change his views. Besides, what's wrong with sentient cats, anyways?

Then stuffing the faunus's head into suitcase and pulling the zipper of the bag closed, Weiss then left the faunus to his own devices. With the cat now in the bag, all that was left was saying goodbye to her family, and getting on the transport directly to Beacon.

* * *

A short time later, Weiss found herself pushing a luggage cart full of her clothes, personal effects, a small arsenal of dust, and a surprisingly light Donovan. That challenge wasn't the physical weight of the cart, but the mental weight of an annoyed faunus unit whose personalty had been unhinged for the first time in his life, who's first true experience without these suppressants was the occupation of a suitcase. Trying to push the cart without colliding into something - Or someone was beginning to prove to be a challenge.

"Dammit Donovan, shut. Up! If you don't want me to re-enable the restrictions on you again, just shut up!"

Further annoyed, unit 0-4-2 continued his peeved chatter.

"How the hell does that work, anyways? I thought that thing was originally stuck to my spinal cord, not my brain. This personality limiter just sounds like science fiction."

Nearly sick of the talking cat, Weiss 'accidentally' shook the cart, much to Donovan's displeasure.

"Google it, since you seem to already know what science fiction is."

It seemed that this day was bent on inconvenience and provoking the Heiress's worry, as a girl clad in red in black had decided to throw herself onto her professionally stacked suitcases. The Heiress may tolerate a hyperactive faunus who had just discovered his personality, and maybe she may not be able to fix her father's tasteless disposition. But Weiss. Won't. Tolerate. This.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

Meekly, the same girl clad in the two particular colors offered what Weiss certainly thought to be a less than satisfactory answer. At the same instant that the suitcase dropped Donovan thought being kicked off the cart for a moment was a form of punishment, causing the upcoming line of dialogue to be something that both Donovan and the girl said simultaneously.

"Sorry..."

As the frustration in the petite, mostly white clad, grumpy heiress who didn't get her extra cup of tea in grew to an apex, the lecturing nature of Weiss awoke. Luckily, both girls decided to ignore the apologizing suitcase.

"Do you have any idea the damage you could have caused?"

Totally lost, the younger hooded girl offered the only answer she could give.

"Uh..."

Ready to educate the other school girl who had such refined ignorance, the Ice Queen stretched her cold little nagging muscle that Donovan knew too well. As Weiss prepared to get into her lecturing rhythm, Donovan cringed in his suitcase mindlessly muttering to himself how everything would be alright. As the seemingly gentle girl of crimson and darkness picked up a small suitcase (yes, this one doesn't contain Donovan) to examine the silver and somewhat shiny object, Weiss simply snatched from her, ready for that lecture.

"This is dust, mined and purified from the Schnee quarry."

The pride in the temporary professor's voice was crystal clear, as Donovan tried to tune out the rest. This is the same speech that all the units took on their first day handling dust, and the same repertoire that every dust ignorant poor civilian and soldier alike received whenever they hesitated in thought towards dust while Weiss was in the room. Will she ever change? Maybe so, maybe not. Perhaps the best Donovan could do was hope, but that was the best he had. As it began to sound as though the lecture was over and that the two students were to part ways, the little faunus unit in his suitcase relaxed - At least, as much as a rather tall and slim faunus could relax inside a somewhat large suitcase. The appearance of a third female voice, also unknown to Donovan had finished the one sided argument with a few brief sentences.

Despite the relief provided by the end of the previous conversation, something started to seem very, very wrong. Just a minute ago, Donovan could feel the inertia brought on by the movement of the cart, but now? Nothing. He simply wasn't moving at all. Then, a series of questions began to form in his mind: should he get out of the suitcase? No, by requesting the time of the day from the countless satellites that orbited the planet's atmosphere, it was unquestionable that the sun still shone. A faunus crawling out of a suitcase owned by the Heiress to the Schnee dust company would offer a potentially damaging scandal. The faunus unit would prefer to die than bring harm against the Schnees, their crime he knew hinself to be? Irrelevant.

Donovan however found that he could attempt to relax again as someone had picked his suitcase back up. The only thing which slightly weighed on his mind, was why the suitcase was swaying back and forth so much.

* * *

**If you aren't of age to read M rated chapters, this is the end of the line for you. Sorry.**

**Well, you've been warned. From here on, the rating changes into M.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Enough with introductions. That new character called Donovan has been established, and introduced. With the faunus catalyst now in play, its time to get down to business.**

**What do I mean by "Business", does the succulent reader ask?**

**Well, my succulent reader, it is the business which changes the rating of this story from T to M. Also, if **very** 'descriptive' stories aren't of your taste... Well, you've been warned.**

* * *

Since when are suitcases of dust this heavy? That's what the girl in white said she was pushing: dust, and lots of it. Actually, she called it an energy propellant, but its all the same. As long as it keeps my sweetheart ticking, and I can still break things, I'm happy, but usually the Crescent Rose is heavier than its ammunition. More so swinging the suitcase around than properly carrying it, I briefly stop, putting the suitcase down. Turning my head to the blonde which had found me after the dust disaster with that Heiress, I left him the job he should have offered to take from me.

"Can you carry this, Jaune? You're at least two years older than me, plus, you're a guy..."

Puppy dog eyes. These things always are effective. I can use them to make my older sister buy or bake me cookies, or make men carry things. Its nice. Answering my request, the blonde called Jaune took up the challenge.

"Well, it can't be that heavy... Dammit, its heavy!"

Unable to suppress a few short giggles, we keep walking, only for Jaune to drop the suitcase. Somewhat surprised, I offer a comment.

"If it really is too heavy for you..."

Somewhat hurt, Jaune attempted an explanation.

"But... It just jumped out of my hand!"

Trying really hard not to roll my eyes, I attempt to handle the situation delicately.

"Its alright, Jau-"

At least, I was handling the situation, until the suitcase decided to start talking.

"DAMN RIGHT I JUMPED OUT OF HIS HAND. THIS GUY CANT EVEN CARRY TO SAVE HIS LIFE."

* * *

Within eyeshot of Ruby and Jaune, stood a particular Yang crowded by her friends that she ditched Ruby for not too long ago. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, nobody seemed to be missing (or pregnant), and the initial edginess of the nerves any student would get during their first day at Beacon had worn away rather quickly. Yes, everything seemed perfect, until a particular brunette girl pointed at a girl and a boy, making them stand out with a simple and quizzical remark.

"Isn't that Yang's little sister? Why does it look like she's talking to a suitcase?"

As Yang whipped her head around to face the strange pair and their reported conversation with such great speed, to offer a disbelieving comment of her own.

"Oh my God, she's really talking to a suitcase."

* * *

With the suitcase being confirmed as something that could indeed talk, Jaune pulled it onto a park bench. With the Blonde sitting on one side of the container and the scythe wielder on the other, full conversation came to follow, the suitcase taking the initiative.

"So, Jaune, are you a natural blonde?"

Somewhat surprised, the swordsman raised an eyebrow.

"Why indeed, how can you see out of that suitcase? Assuming you aren't some really big scroll, of course."

Ruby may have been carefully examining the case, which she now found to be locked, but she couldn't have seen Donovan roll his eyes from within the secured encasement.

"I just guessed, Jaune, from how you use your words and the tone of your voice."

The faunus a la suitcase could not have termed it better. Not only had he effectively called Jaune an idiot, much to Ruby's full knowledge, but also at the same time made Jaune think it to be a complement. All the same, the unlikely pair sitting beside the silver box shared a good laugh, with Jaune probably only laughing because Ruby couldn't suppress the sudden humor. Monkey see, monkey do. Who would have thought that using the internet to check the basic profile of Jaune Arc on the popular social media website could be so productive? Alas, if only Shakespeare had the internet.

After Yang who was indeed not too far away had grasped how much this entire situation could damage both her and her family's reputation as sane people, she had began he approach. Needless to say, reaching this conclusion only took Yang half a second, with the sight of the two teenagers laughing only further increasing her concerns. The instant that the underclothed blonde entered earshot range of her sister and vomit boy, she put no time to waste in scolding the girl of black and red.

"Are you two insane?! You're laughing at a suitcase, if I hadn't known that you were my sister, I'd think that they pulled you from an asylum!"

Surprisingly, it was Jaune who stood up to Yang. Jaune would tell himself he did it for Ruby. And the suitcase. Though he certainly had Ruby on the mind, it was really just for the shiny briefcase.

"You know, Blondie, that's a sentient briefcase, right there for you. Just wait, the shiny locked box will throw a somewhat muffled sarcastic comment at you, any second now... Any second now... Uh, Mister Briefcase?"

Naturally, Donovan felt obliged not to answer, confirming Yang's suspicions of insanity. However, before Yang could be the second to call Jaune an idiot in this one day, Ruby stepped in.

"Really, Yang, I think something alive is inside of it!"

Rolling her eyes, Yang flipped her hair and dipped her voice into some good old sarcasm sauce (mystery flavour, bitches).

"I'm sure it is, Ruby-"

But before Yang could actually get to the comment that had been in the works as she was walking over, a thought occurred to her. What if there really was a live person in there? Now truly trying to be understanding, the conniving brawler changed her tone.

"Then wouldn't this belong to someone?"

The revelation by Yang was like the sun, dawning on the clueless horizons of Ruby and Jaune. As the idea came to light, the two parkbenched teenaged faces also illuminated with a radiance, unmatched by the degrees as to which these suitcase whisperers are gullible. Nodding in understanding, Ruby spoke for the two fools.

"Well... That Weiss Schnee girl said that she was moving cases of dust... But this doesn't seem like dust..."

The perverted gears spinning at full speed within the mind of Yang, the dirty blonde roughly pulled the surprisingly weighty suitcase off the bench to Donovan's displeasure.

"I'll just return this now, so that sourpuss doesn't call the cops on you two, saying that you stole her stuff. You can thank me later."

Once Yang essentially ran off with their entertainment for the hour, the two remaining students facing one another. Jaune wasted no time in voicing their shared thought and opinion.

"Alright... Now what?"

* * *

Trying to be as silent as possible, Donovan began to develop his escape act. It would mean trying to reach for at least on brass knuckle, and cutting the locks from the material of the case, but there was a catch. With all this swinging, carrying, and time in the case, the faunus had forgotten which side of the suitcase consisted of hinges or locks. He would cross that bridge when it came down to if. Maybe the suitcase was simply weaker than he, and brute force could work perfectly fine.

What Donovan didn't know, however, was the nature of Yang's interest in the contents of this suitcase: any true emotion or sense of identity which Donovan should have grown up with? It was all unleashed now, waiting to be explored. If Weiss would be the one to sit Donovan down and discuss the topics of sexuality, personality, and identity with him, then perhaps the faunus unit would have the opportunity to watch that side of him grow like any other normal person. Perhaps the rate of these discoveries would be accelerated, but the truth was that Weiss enjoyed being effectively the one to raise the faunus unit.

Suddenly, Donovan found that his suitcase had been placed on top of something, giving him the perfect angle to reach for and grab one of his brass knuckles. After pointing them towards what might be the locking mechanism, he pressed a hidden button on the weapon, causing a long broadsword's blade to grow from the brass weapon: the knuckles were nothing more than the hilt to a collapsing blade. As Donovan continued to try to pry and slice his way free, Yang had noticed the blade and escape attempt.

Rolling her eyes, the blonde raised her gauntlet guns, offering a brief warning.

"Hey suitcase guy! Hoping that you're a guy... Hold on tight!"

A notion of dread materializing at the core of the faunus unit's gut, Donovan began his protest just a little too late.

"Wait, wait... Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait!"

The moment before the shotgun volley started, the blade that had passed through the suitcase collapsed back into its convenient knuckle duster form and found its way back into Donovan's pocket with the most perfect timing. As the volley of shotgun shells struck, the locked metal box started to get some serious air, flipping in every what way. The now truly dizzy, disoriented, and slightly concussed faunus within the firestorm could now be heard unleashing a plethora of profanity against the unknown individual which had submitted him to this torture. If Donovan ever thought his cat ears to be sensitive before... Well...

Finally, the suitcase now with an easy eighty feet of vertical air, the locked box finally ripped open sending the half-sick faunus sprawling through the air. Not too far away, was Weiss, finally with a clue as to the location of her personal cat-bitch: the screams and yowls of a very displeased faunus unit were not something easily missed.

Falling, Donovan found himself dodging additional beads of shotgun shot as the over eager blonde kept on shooting, evading the incoming fire with varying degrees of success. Just when the flying faunus thought himself to be fire of gunfire, a last shot nearly hit his back, shredding his shirt and jacket. Now shutting his eyes firmly, expecting impact with the ground, Donovan found himself... Not dead. Awkwardly looking up at the girl who had caught him, Donovan tentatively tried for conversation, if even but awkward.

"Heh... Hello- What was your name?"

Far more confident in herself, stood a blonde brawler who found herself most pleased with the day's catch. Most cat faunus tended to be rather private with at least one means of hiding their ears. Managing to spot a rather handsome male cat faunus who clear had enough confidence and strength of his own to keep his ears exposed in public...

"Just call me Yang. Actually, now that you mention it, you're probably better off just calling me master."

Somewhat confused, the curious faunus asked a question that he would very soon regret.

"Why would I call you master? I already have one of those."

Yang didn't hear 3/4th of Donovan's answer. The only portion that her mind processed, was the part where he said: 'I already have one...'. Suggesting that 'domesticating' the freshly caught cat faunus would be something that may not take any longer than fifteen minutes. As Donovan tried to struggle out of Yang's grasp, he found himself weaker than usual. The tumble through the sky had left the faunus with both a splitting headache, a noteworthy degree of nausea, a still lasting sense of vertigo, and a total loss of of equilibrium... But was the reason physical?

Finally falling from Yang's arms, Donovan found himself on the ground, unable to get back up. Instead, the blonde simply dragged the somewhat lucky cat faunus behind a thick set of nearby bushes, somewhat removed away from the earshot and glance of any passerby. Convinced that he was about to be killed in the most humiliation way: a random girl taking advantage of an unfortunate situation, Donovan pulled one of those brass knuckles out of his pocket, not yet activating the blade. Yang couldn't help but roll her eyes and comment.

"Here's something you don't see very often. A teenage guy, running from a teenage girl. Are you sure you have your head screwed on right?"

With even greater apprehension, Donovan asked the plainest question he asked all day.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me?"

A smile stretching across Yang's face, she offered an equally simple answer.

"I wont hurt you. Just relax, it'll be fun."

Only half convinced, the struggle in the faunus's mind became apparent through his facial expression. Taking advantage of his confusion, Yang sat on Donovan, straddling his waist. Pushing the advantage further, Yang snatched the weapon away from the teenage boy, throwing it aside. But Donovan didn't care for that one collapsible sword, because when in public he carried them in pairs: one in each pocket, for each hand. Suddenly the faunus found his heart pounding away at his throat. How did getting sat on by a female trigger this? In earlier days, he would get into very personal fights with the other faunus units for the fun of it, and his heart never reacted like this. Donovan also felt a very unique warmth as Yang moved around a little, getting comfortable on her faunus chair. After discarding the remains of Donovan's jacket and dress shirt, the blonde used her hand to study what could only have been a series of old burns and scars on the faunus unit's chest.

"Alright cat boy, lets start you off easy."

Yang began to close the distance between her lips and his, with Donovan finding himself instantly short of breath in a way that was intoxicating. But for a reason he did not understand, he had no current will, no reason to fight the blonde but a desire to see what would happen next. No... A _drive_ to see what would happen next. With their faces just an inch apart, Donovan found the blonde entwining the fingers of one of his hands, with one of hers. Both hands squeezing the other tightly, the same faunus pondered a new question: Weiss was also a female, couldn't she have done something like this with him? It seemed like an emotion only a female could conjure out of him... But Yang seemed to know what she was doing. Just in closing the distances, just in the superficial skin contact of the hands, he felt... Good. But... Weiss?

_Yes._

_Weiss._

_There you are..._

She had literally just walked into view, visible in the corner of the faunus units eye, dropping her scroll which she had been using to try and find her faunus in pure shock.

Without hesitation, Donovan pulled out the second collapsible sword, pressed it into Yang's gut, and activated it.


	5. Chapter 5

**I wanted to post this sooner, but sadly the error of clicking on the bookmark to my favorite browser game (without saving what I had previously wrote) resulted in wasting a good chuck on my progress on writing this chapter.**

**But I suppose passion is something one gets from time anyways. How poetically stupid...**

**Oh yeah, and thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews. While I find it disgusting to tailor a story to fan serve, I have no qualms in writing to entertain both you and I. Please enjoy as the plot thickens, my magnificent reader.**

* * *

Here's a unique experience for Donovan.

_Fear._

Not the plain, monochromatic dry throat styled apprehensive fear.

_The fear that he might not wake back up._

Yang might be able to pull a sword out of herself and recover at a rapid rate due to her semblance. If anything, the ignorant faunus had increased the blonde's strength by some unknown measure, despite his best efforts. After removing the blade from her own body, Yang then absentmindedly returned the favor, plunging Donovan's own weapon into his already vulnerable body. Perhaps a rather anti-climatic move, and a moderate cliché in its own rite, but a deadly act irrelevant of theatrics.

One thing Donovan understood with full certainty, was that he had been quickly moved to Beacon's hospital wing. With a blurry, red tinted and weakened vision, the immensely heavy dosage of anesthesia which must have been administered upon arrival at this hospital wing began to take hold. This would culminate into another first for the born again faunus: previously, he could physically feel everything while understanding nothing. But now, with these drugs which now sneer at Donovan's senses? He was mentally empowered in ways behind his dreams, before he couldn't even dream by his transfer into Weiss's care. The first even if lightly independent act on the stage of autonomy would now chemically turn the ignorant faunus back into the zombie he always found himself to be.

A new development formed, as the medical staff which swarmed Donovan seemed to have arrived at a conclusion. The wounded teenager might have been groggy from being flipped around, somewhat sexually assaulted, then stabbed with his own personal weapon, but he did still have some degree of situation awareness. In a few short moments, he could come to understand how these doctors intended to treat the injury. They would gradually pull the blade out, at a very slow rate, letting Donovan's aura do all the healing work. The injury was simply too serious for any further tampering, and the patient's physical exhaustion would make any attempt at an operation paramount to murder. Simply hoping that the wounded Donovan could attend to his own wounds stood as the only answer that the seasoned doctors could offer.

Donovan, however, knew his weapon better than anyone else. His swords employed a somewhat complex system which would absorb it's victim's aura for as long as the weapon made physical contact. Instead of a ranged ability, he preferred to simply have an overpowered melee weapon, relying on agility, situation awareness, and skill to not get shot. The only catch, was that the weapons had a large mouth, but a small stomach: they could leech a large amount of a person's aura very quickly, but after a certain quantity of absorbed aura? This special gimmick would cease to work, until the weapon's 'stomach' could 'digest' the consumed aura. Overall, If Yang hadn't been hurt by the weapon first? Then Donovan would certainly be dead.

Standing as close as the medical engineers which had swarmed Donovan would allow, Weiss could not help but submerge herself into the wasteland of guilt and such a fair measure of despair. That moment, when you know that something is certainly, and potentially irreparably, an inexorable finality... All this moping by the Heiress dissolved at such a powerfully rapid pace. Besides... Wasn't Donovan just defending himself from a paradox of a rape?

This train of thought had been derailed, though, as the one particular doctor had acted in a way unexpected. He simply yanked the blade free from Donovan's torso, the reaction by Donovan being something unexpected.

Instead of requiring a few days to a week to reach such a conclusion, is wounds healed near-instantly.

* * *

Inside Headmaster Ozpin's office, sat a significant collection of Beacon Academy's staff. With the professors Glynda, Peter, and Bartholomew all sitting in chairs before the headmasters desk, the apprehension was palatable. Ozpin had called them all there some some before, and strangely enough he was absent to his own meeting. Something unusual was happening, and the rumors concerning a smuggled faunus inside a suitcase were quickly becoming greatly exaggerated. Some intrepid gossipers were suggesting that the White Fang were shipping in an army of assassins inside of well designed and even better styled color coded suitcases. Others had ventured as far to suggest that Weiss Schnee was planning to ship in a brothel of cat faunus. Perhaps the first story may have been far fetched, animal puns being something the author refuses to apologize for, it would seem that Ozpin just might have called a meeting of his closer friends for the sake of gossip. At least, so it would seem...

Naturally the headmaster and professors took little heed of the rumors, but these same adults didn't hesitate to listen. While rumors do stand as something to usually be discounted, such stories tend to frequently be based on some degree of fact. From these exaggerated stories, the professors knew a few things for truth: someone unwelcome had entered the school grounds, the person had ties to a large and potentially infamous organization, and something had come of this arrival.

Either that, or some nerds were visiting to host a grand strategy game tournament and do some role playing.

Finally after fifteen minutes of tardiness, the headmaster had finally arrived in his office, entering through the front door. In reaction to his arrival, the three seated professors had risen from their chairs, ready for some answers. Instead, the headmaster took a seat behind his desk using his hands to motion for his colleagues to sit back down.

"Of course you all are wondering why I had gathered you here. Hopefully you do know the definition of fashionably late. All the same, on the school grounds there has been a rather unique incident."

Totally in character, each of the professors answered in their own unique way. Glynda allowed a note of worry to play across her face, Peter reached for his weapon, and Bartholomew... Well, Bartholomew knocked back some more coffee. Before anything particularly significant could truly come of these reactions, Ozpin continued his address.

"This has already been resolved, and the deeper details have already been sent to your scrolls. They're for your personal reference, should you ever need additional details later. So far, I will say this: there has been a new arrival, and that same person had been admitted into the infirmary. Due to the person's method of arrival as disclosed by our security cameras, I have arrived at the conclusion that this teenager is directly connected to the Schnee Dust Company for any range of reasons. Not everyone see's a Schnee's suitcase as a preferred method of travel."

Not understanding the significance of the school's interloper of the day, Professor Woodwitch ventured to ask what made the person of question so damn special.

"Alright, so now we have a daughter of the Schnees, something we already knew to expect, and a now a new peon. Maybe even a masochistic peon? This is a school where we train grunts into fighers, what's the big deal?"

Both Peter and Bartholomew found themselves nodding in agreement, with none of the three professors wishing to shift though Ozpin's summary which had been sent to their scrolls. Playing dumb and making the headmaster say everything verbally had its value. Sent documents from Ozpin were always the most dreaded form of paperwork, simply for the reason that the majority of the documents contained bad jokes, facepalm worthy cultural references, and pictures of the headmaster's pet kittens. Not bothering to hide a grin, the white haired professor got to the point.

"While our most beloved doctors were treated the faunus - Yes, a Schnee tried to smuggle a faunus into the school inside the same suitcase in question - They also ran some tests on his blood. Standard procedure, those medical professionals like to check for any blood born viruses and countless other things that might complicate treatment. Part of this analysis, includes the sequencing of the patient's DNA to get a better idea of who they're dealing with. Afterwords when the patient woke up, the school's councilor and psychologist briefly interviewed the same faunus patient. I looked over the medical and psychological report, and the results were troubling."

Starting to lose her patience, it seemed as if Glynda was about ready to scold her boss. Before she could do so, Bartholomew prevented the potential catastrophe by taking the lead himself at his regularly quickened pace of speech.

"Before-I-run-out-of-drink-headmaster-please-simply-tell-us-why-this-even-matters-and-what-you-want-us-to-be-on-the-lookout-for!"

Sighing, the headmaster Ozpin simply gave up his game of information keep away with his subordinates."

"We know that Aura recovery exists in two portions. Physical strength in areas such as endurance, particularly cardiovascular strength."

The rather oversized Peter Port just watched the headmaster puzzled. The headmaster continued to elaborate.

"It means that the person isn't overweight, Port! Anyways. Mental realism, resolve, and discipline make the other half of Aura generation. This faunus from the Schnee Dust Company had been physically tampered with though genetic therapy and a mix of mental hardening, conditioning, and training. The genetic changes were so extensive, that its difficult to even classify this teenage boy as a faunus while being discrete enough to require a medical analysis to spot. The result of the physical and mental tampering was that Donovan - at least, Weiss Schnee said that his name is Donovan - effectively became his own personal Aura factory. His ability to store and hold Aura is as average and common as any other student. However, his ability to recover lost aura is unnaturally rapid. Donovan had been stabbed with his own weapon by a third party. When our doctors pulled the weapon out from Donovan's torso, the wound had near instantly healed itself due to the rapid pace. If this happened because of a massive Aura buildup, or a natural reaction to the blade being removed from the wound to allow healing... We don't know."

Now the reason for the headmaster's worry could hang and air out, right before the professors. In reality, the only entity who could make such an abhorrent genetic mutation is the Schnee Dust Company. Not because of its reputation, but the company's available resources: beyond a nearly endless flow of cash, a dust corporation would need multiple laboratories for the sake of developing better methods in dust mining. Also, the engineers needed for building the infrastructure needed to undertake such a massive project would already be available. The genetic specialists, the psychologists, the connections needed to gain such people would already exist. More so to the point, the faunus needed for the genetic therapy would already be abundant. If there was a single case like Donovan, it would be natural to assume that there were also countless more like him.

This time, Professor Port offered a bit of information that would actually show as valid.

"If this Aura fountain is something that this... Faunus... Really has? All living creatures, excluding Grimm are capable of expelling their Aura in some way or another. Even if the young Donovan doesn't use a semblance, he could expel his Aura at a significant rate and quantity, without endangering his health. He could use his Aura to put more force behind a weapon, or just to blast this energy at a target... Its something that animals have been known to do in order to scare off creatures of Grimm at times. With the right mental discipline and weaponry-"

Before the Professor could get out of hand, Ozpin this time was the one to interrupt him.

"This brings me to really why I called you all here. After the boy had mentally recovered from the confusion nature of his injuries, I offered him a place at this school as a student which he did indeed accept. The goal is to study this strange creature, and maybe figure out what technology make this possible. We also know that the particular Mr. Schnee's... Business decisions have become not unlike the actions of a tyrant. Perhaps this may be an opportunity to gain some information as to the strange practices of that same Schnee Dust Company."

With the most perfect timing, the now seemingly unprofessional Ozpin's scroll began to blare a rather sexy high pitched and feminine ringtone. After a moment of rather awkward silence, the headmaster activated his scroll and found himself in a video chat with a somewhat unexpected face. It was the Mr. Schnee that the three teachers and one administrator were gossiping about, who quickly made his hand clear.

"Hello, my good headmaster. What sort of... Donation do I need to make onto your school to get a faunus boy that I have been... Sponsoring... To join the ranks of students?"

Yes, thought the four in the office. Very clear, indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

Shirtless. Tired. Bloody. Sitting right next to Weiss atop the hospital bed which was just as mired as Donovan's torso and pants. The two of them were alone in the hospital wing, the doctors were all elsewhere writing their detailed reports of the significant events which have passed. Nobody else had been injured on their first day, so there was nobody else to bother the two teenagers. Weiss was the first to speak.

"You need a shirt."

Annoyed, the faunus unit slowly turned his head to face his master.

"Does my naked torso make you uncomfortable? I intend to ask you about what that blonde girl was doing to me, for an explanation why something like _that_ would interest a female..."

To this, Weiss's regularly pale face flushed a deep scarlet. The faunus may have only been moderately built, but without a shirt? The schnee's father may not have raised his faunus units in any kind way, but it had made them strong and very attractive by Weiss's standards. Not grasping the meaning behind , Donovan simply kept talking.

"... But I sense that you might not be the person to ask. Who to ask... But do you think it to be possible that I could access my suitcase for a spare change of clothes? I can't walk around Beacon, looking like I've been murdered."

Annoyed at the double meaning that she would find herself using to answer, Weiss's next words would have no effect on the faunus: he didn't understand what they meant.

"But you _were_ murdered."

Getting onto her feet, the Heiress made to stand in front of Donovan. Placing the fingertips of her right hand onto where a scar should have been from the stabbing, Weiss could still feel her cheeks prickle warmly. Throughout Weiss's childhood, she had always regarded the faunus as a stuffed toy. Something of innocent emotional attachment, that even sometimes at her current age she would have the habit of using Donovan as a giant cuddle toy. But with dorms, such a thing would be impossible until the year end. When they could go home. Weiss had never been before separated from her stuffed toy for any real length of time, and she would be unable to show her struggle for dignity's sake.

Then moving her hand to Donovan's head, she began to scratch one of his ears. The faunus then tilted his head towards the girl's hand, trying his damndest to avoid purring. As Weiss did this, she spoke to her stuffed cat.

"Remember how I used to tell you that you weren't supposed to carry those neurotoxins you enjoy making? Its time that you got back to being creative. There's someone here that nobody can really beat by punching them into the ground, but there isn't a single soul in the world that is immune to a chemical which attacks the nerves."

For as long as Weiss would scratch at Donovan's ear, he would be unable to answer. It was not a matter of being rude, but a physical reality. These ears of the Heiress's pet were unusually sensitive, even for a cat faunus. Not even his many brothers in the faunus units bore such a sensitivity in the velvet smooth ears. It was a weakness that the Ice Queen would find adorable, and had no qualms about exploiting. Lucky for Donovan, it was an exploitation which resulted in bliss rather than torture. The more that Weiss pursued her side hobby of Donovan's ears, the more that the faunus unit seemed less like a child soldier and far more like a cat. Starting to get sleepy, the faunus yawned and twitched his head forwards, to which his Heiress stopped scratching. He couldn't fall asleep yet, she wanted him fully lucid until the evening. As of now, lunch hadn't even passed and the faunus needed to be cleaned up from his own blood.

The timing at which Weiss had abandoned the ears was perfect. A nurse had just entered the wing, muttering something about Donovan needing to take a shower. As the faunus began to comply, not wanting to upset the nurse who was an easy four times larger than he, Donovan allowed himself to be shown to the communal male showers. As the faunus unit was being escorted out, he took the brief opportunity to pocket a few rolls of bandages.

* * *

Sitting behind the desk with his scroll, still conversing with the Mr. Schnee of that ridiculously large and rich dust corporation, the headmaster Ozpin was checking the things off from his wish list. The teachers which he had earlier summoned also still remained with him, also offering suggestions as how the Schnee should bribe the school where the acceptance of the faunus was concerned.

"Lets see now... Portable coffee maker? Check. A mechanical bull? Check. A beer pong table that maintains itself? Check. Mini-cooler and icemaker? Check. New computers for the geeks down below? Check. A massive infusion of cash into the school's bank account? Check. A massive poster about the Greek alphabet? Check. An early copy Half Life 3? Check. A new horsewhip? Only for the Badwitch. Check. A bobble head toy of an Ursa Major? Check. You're welcome, Port. An industrial portable coffee maker and bong? Check. You owe me one, Bartholomew. Am I forgetting anything? Oh, yes. A few fleet of everything we have that flies, paired with a vintage Rolls-Royce. The Royce must be fire engine red, have a mounted heavy dust machinegun, and have cup holders. Lots of cupholders. Hell, give it a cupholder gun. So many impoverished rides without cupholders."

Sighing, the annoyed Schnee asked a question.

"Will that be all, headmaster?"

As Ozpin shook his head, that most lovable Schnee ended the video call. To this, the three professors and headmaster burst out into laughter. The mirth was punctuated by the words of the headmaster himself.

"In a week, I'll tell him that I already accepted the faunus... Teenager... Boy... What was he again?"

* * *

Using the bandages he 'borrowed' from the infirmary, he began to wrap himself from the waist to halfway up his torso in the long, white bandage. He had decided that it was time for a new look. Besides, he couldn't allow himself to wear things such as sports jackets for any longer: a thing which would only restrict his movements. He then began to wrap the arches of his feet, intending to remain barefoot. It was like this that he had always been while in the faunus unit barracks back on Schnee land. It was with this attire that he had learned to fight.

It was only like this, that he could feet confident in his clothing. He could move freely, fight hard, and carry harder. For the sake of style or at the very least, what Donovan thought to be style, he then bandaged himself on both arms from the elbow to the wrists. Besides, bandages are what he truly needed, but the bandages of the mind: the last two days had truly disturbed him to an extent.

Getting up from the bench, he then kicked in the door to a locker, the metal buckling under his foot as if it were a flexible plastic. He then drew his sword hilts from his pockets, holding them ready to activate as blades. He needed to check, clean, and service his weapons. If not, how could he expect them to function at optimal capacity? Should these collapsable blades be the thing that his lift would depend on, then the faunus would certainly spend the minimal time to service them, and ten times the minutes needed to do so. He could fight without weapons just as well as the rest of his brothers, but it was on these blades that something relied on.

It would not take a genius to understand that the Schnee family relied on the hundred faunus units being able to function as well as their weapons. Rather, these faunus units were the weapons themselves that needed to be well greased in order to function.

Going off to the bathroom, Donovan made to clean the joints of his blades, where his and Yang's blood had collected and dried. It seemed to be the only maintenance needed. The paired weapons could extend and retract perfectly well, ready for any task that the blade's wielder might require.

Retracting the blades and pocketing the hilt, he the retrieved and stored his dirty clothes in the locker he was assigned. Donovan would attend to his bloodstained wear of previous at a later date. As of now, he needed to get back to Weiss. He knew that the holder of his virtual though tangible leash was waiting, and Donovan certainly knew better than to leave Weiss waiting for any longer than ever needed.

As it stood this cat knew about some of the events planned to come for the students. He knew that on this first night that all the students would sleep in commune. That sooner or later, the students would be paired into teams as is Beacon customs. Somehow, permanent partners would be formed for the duration of the student's time at Beacon: a total of four years.

However, it was some time since he had a moment alone to catch his breath from the previous events. This is the first time that Donovan would spend a silent moment alone with himself. In the past he would sit alone with nobody, his very mind suppressed by whatever trickery the Schnee's had in stock.

He had heard that a person was to feel remorse after killing, or attempting to kill someone. At least, such was the consent of the internet that he had sampled, and Donovan had sampled much. Is this the exultant of the psychopath, which he cries out from the pulpit of churches? Is this what a dreamlike state is, surreal beyond taste or texture? With the internet even closer than the reach of his fingertips, the faunus unit had already reached a diagnosis and prognosis of his very own psyche.

The conclusion proceeding into describing his mind was beyond ecstasy. It meant that he was just like his brothers, and there's nothing like realizing that you're not alone.


	7. Chapter 7

The Emerald Forest, Part One

* * *

Sitting in the locker room, Donovan removed some combat webbing from his locker. The webbing is essentially a harness with a series of pouches sewn onto the harness, along side some attachment hooks should Donovan feel too lazy to carry any small things. It meant that he could carry some dust, a water canteen, some binoculars, a bit of food, and countless other bits of useful equipment and consumables that would certainly help him in the field. Perhaps the webbing was far more minimal as opposed to the more popular designs which seemed more like vests, but minimal was all that he required. All the first year students had been told that they were to expect a good fight later on, and prepare accordingly.

The faunus had overnight slipped into the forest outside of Beacon, and went on a brief scouting run. He knew that certainly some day that they would be tested in the forest. What Donovan didn't know, was that his information would be instantly needed the upcoming morning. Stifling a yawn, he then reached for the cup of coffee that the faunus had recently placed on the shelf of his locker. As he held it and looked into the jet black liquid, a marginal reflection of a black haired faunus looking back at him.

Was it the coffee that was bitter and black? Or his reflection? Neither? Maybe both?

Chugging back the coffee, the stared into what now became an empty cup. Why was it that Donovan felt that the best reflection, was no reflection at all? Spiritual questions aside, he had his coffee, he has his equipment, and his sword hilts rest heavily in his pockets. Today would be a good day, and the best day he had spent conscious. Perhaps it was only Donovan's third day with any real autonomy, but somewhere on the internet, he had read that good things come in threes.

As the black haired faunus unit made to turn around, he caught a the look of a ginger wearing some rather questionable armor. The only real protection that he could see in the wear, were the bronze looking greaves and that one gauntlet. It all had looked far more ornamental than practical, asides from the given exceptions. For the moment it seemed that she had the intention of approaching Donovan to speak with him, so he turned around to face his locker again. The brief analysis of the teenage girl had lead the faunus to conclude that she probably failed to take combat truly seriously. Slipping a few rectangular containers of some unusually well graded dust into a few empty pouches on his webbing, Donovan found himself being tapped on the shoulder by the ginger.

As the somewhat annoyed faunus turned around to face the ginger in question, he tried a polite greeting.

"Yes? How can I help you?"

Sure that Donovan had something to say to the spartan, Pyrrha decided to pursue conversation.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Is everything alright?"

Shaking his head, Donovan showed Pyrrha his empty cup.

"Nope. There isn't enough time to refill it before I've got to head out. A shame... On that note, I should be going."

Pyrrha made no attempt to stop the faunus unit. The brief exchange had convinced the female counterpart of the conversation that the unknown cat faunus was not interested in making a team with the famous Pyrrha. The renowned fighter was therefore brought to the conclusion that he was studying her, trying to find some weakness to exploit discreetly in the middle of eventual testing. What could raise a student's marks more, than taking down the strongest rival? While this couldn't be further from the truth, it was the opinion that Pyrrha would now hold of Donovan.

The faunus adjusting the straps which held his webbing together, he had spotted another teenager. This one was male, wearing a black and green tailcoat with gold trim, and hair black like Donovan's own. The unknown male human was sitting alone on a bench, checking over a pair of compact bladed submachine guns. In enough time, the two teenage boys found themselves sitting beside each other on that same bench, checking over their weapons in complete silence. Notably, Donovan didn't extend his blades for the sake of showing them off. While the faunus's goal was to learn as much about the other boy's weapons while giving away next to nothing about his own, he was grateful for being able to sit in silence next to someone. He hadn't come across Weiss all morning, and the faunus unit was gaining a thirst for company.

It seemed that trouble was approaching, when a girl clad in white, pink, and a far too energetic personality for Donovan's taste began to approach. Pocketing his weapons, Donovan got to his feet, and spoke a single word.

"Donovan."

In acknowledgment, the magenta eyed boy answered with his own name.

"Ren."

Gone before the incoming flurry of what seemed to be too much caffeine, or just an unbearable morning person called Nora could arrive. It was all the faunus really wanted, he had no interest Donovan found himself passing by a conversation between Pyrrha and Weiss. How much Donovan wished that Weiss was alone. Moving carefully to be sure that he escaped the notice of both Weiss and Pyrrha, the faunus caught a portion of the conversation as a particular Jaune came to interrupt it. It was with this accidental eavesdropping that he would come to hear of Pyrrha's achievements. Would Donovan come to regret brushing Pyrrha aside?

* * *

Peering over the edge of the cliff, Donovan was comparing his memory to the birds eye view of the potential playing field before him. Taking out his binoculars, he began to scan the forest for any large parties of Grimm that might be a problem. The moment which the watching and waiting Ozpin noticed Donovan's spotting efforts, he walked up to the teenager and took the binoculars from him.

"Come on, Donovan, its not much of a pop test if you're standing there with a pair of binoculars."

Returning the optics back to Donovan, the headmaster grinned as he faced and walked away from the cliff. Just when Ozpin thought that he had dealt with the faunus unit's over eagerness, Ozpin took his turn to watch Donovan using one of his swords to chop down a tree. Facepalming, the headmaster decided that he'd wait to see what Donovan wanted to do with the tree before telling the irrepressible student that his actions were against some obscure rule.

Within the next few minutes, all other students would begin to arrive. The interest of both students and staff at the top of this cliff would not carry any disguise where the actions of Donovan were concerned. The tree had now been cut down, and the faunus was using a sword to make planks and sheets of wood at varying thicknesses. This didn't seem like some arbitrary woodworking personal project, the careful movements of Donovan's hands and arms kept apparent that there was some sort of experience behind his actions. Some sort of skill. Weiss, who had arrived with the other students, was trying with some difficulty to hide her smirk: she knew exactly what Donovan was doing. The particular Blake Belladonna, interested in the arrival of another cat faunus more than whatever contraption that Donovan was devising decided to approach the busy carpenter.

Ever the one to pursue those pleasantries, Blake addressed the distracted Donovan.

"What are you doing?"

Concentrated on getting the thickness right while making sure that the plank surface was level, Donovan was not interested in conversation. Deciding to look up at the person who put time aside for the reason of annoying the craftsman, the same Donovan found himself surprised at the girl who stood before him.

"Using an inanimate object to make my life easier. Just like you are, with that bow."

Frowning, Blake seemed genuinely confused.

"There hasn't been a single archer as a student or professor fo-"

As far as Donovan would be concerned, he stood as busy. He could tell that the dark haired girl was a cat faunus, he knew an easy hundred of them. The woodworking faunus unit picked up on all the mannerisms, the ability to dodge just about any question, and to seem as if the person who asked the question didn't even care in the first place.

"If you can't be real with me, you're wasting my time, faunus girl."

Glaring at the bandaged boy, Blake buried Donovan in a metaphorical mountain in contempt while only using her eyes. Even the posture at which she stood paired with the tone of her voice made it clear that Blake was not to be toyed with.

"That's rude, shouldn't you be trying to make friends on your first day? Proud little pu-"

The second time that Donovan would interrupt Belladonna would prove to be the most effective. Borrowing a masculine variant of Weiss's trump card level disdain, the male faunus glared at Blake with the eyes that even Blake knew to be the eyes of a murderer.

"Then you have no identity, if you can't accept what is you. Therefore you are not alive. I have no time for the dead."

The pistolier interrogating Donovan wasn't frightened, if not surprised by the change of Donovan's now cold eyes. It was the instant change from tolerating, annoyed, and perhaps even bright but still plain; into a cold, perhaps dangerous threat that Donovan became. The mannerism change wasn't something just practiced in the mirror to be sure that the angle of a well placed sneer was correct. This was a social counter attack refined and assumed by killing things. Sentient things.

One rumor held that Donovan remained connected to the Schnee Dust Company as some sort of security guard. Blake herself knew that many faunus would go to do all sorts of damage to Schnee property, even the mansion, ranging from trying to torch the garden and spray paint the walls to sometimes throwing homemade grenades.

Could Blake and Donovan have met before?


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry about the wait.**

The Emerald Forest, Part Two

* * *

The last time that Donovan was in the Emerald Forest (on his scouting trip), he had the foresight to leave an assortment of accessories and aids in random places. Under fairly large stones. Inside hollow trees. Under a particular tree's thick canopy. One of the things he had left behind, was a coil of rope: exactly what he needed to finish his contraption. Donovan had built a basic glider, using somewhat thinly cut sheets of wood and a few solid rectangular beams. It wasn't designed to cover half the area of the forest, or to fly like a fighter jet, but to allow the faunus to have control on where he landed. This would give Donovan the ability to choose where and how he would fight, if he felt like fighting at all. A battle not fought, is a battle not lost. Donovan didn't feel the need to prove himself to anybody. He simply kills what he needs to kill, disarm what needs to be disarmed, and would build gliders to glide over whatever must be glided over. Much aerodynamic. Very air.

Perhaps the faunus unit's mental math and notion of physics was a bit sketchy, but this contraption of wood, thinner wood, and a bit of rope would give him the control he demanded for any combat situation. Ozpin was going to throw them into combat, right?

Walking over to the lineup of his fellow students which all were each standing on their own launch platforms, Donovan somewhat seemed... Unique, to say the least. Everyone else was just standing on their spring powered launch platforms, but it was clear that preparations were not made for that faunus unit: Donovan didn't have a platform of his own. Instead, as the the odd one out, Donovan was just... Standing there. Holding onto a rather sketchy looking, oversized, and potentially dangerous glider. The glider didn't even seem to have any method of proper steering, aside from the operator simply using his weight to tilt the whole thing. Naturally, someone had felt the need to comment on Donovan's suicidal looking glider.

Blake, just standing there with a second year university book on physics, just glared at Donovan. Not even trying to be politely quiet, Pyrrha also joined in on the Donovan bashing with a verbal comment rather than visual suggestion.

"My God, he's crazy. Good luck to anyone trying to get insurance out of him."

For no good reason, Jaune decided to get in on the fun as well. Why someone so incompetent in combat would want to start picking on a guy that wears bandages on a regular basis? Not even the blonde would know, but something as obscene as logic wouldn't stop this Arc.

"What is it, catnip or cocaine? Either way, this guy's going to be landing on all fours."

More humored than flustered, Donovan simply glared at Jaune. It was similar to a joke that became rather viral among the faunus barracks back home, at least, back when he lived there. What really would tick the cat faunus off, would be Pyrrha's comment: a mirror image to Donovan's previous assumption that the same Pyrrha lacked any care for combat.

"Is that guy even taking any of this seriously?"

About to flip the ginger off, Donovan slowly began to turn his head towards Pyrrha. Hasty to avoid any casualties before any testing actually began, Ozpin interrupted what might have soon transitioned into an early brawl. Ozpin droning on with instructions concerning the recovery of an artifact, how eye contact with the first person you ran into would decide your permanent counterpart while at Beacon, and that this session would result in marks as if it were a test, Donovan heeded the headmaster's words carefully. Glancing over the cliff, Donovan knew that he would never be able to get the right altitude needed to get a good head start on everyone else. The faunus unit felt the impulse to leave everyone behind, to surpass them, to glide above their heads in his questionably built glider and stomp on them all.

Once Donovan took another glance off the cliff, the headmaster's words begun to seemingly slip out of phase to Donovan. They didn't matter anymore, he had heard his objective, and the headmaster seemed to have no intention of offering any useful hints. His body suddenly felt weightless, and the weak and very gentle breeze started to look more like a highway without limits. Despite all this, the collapsable swords in his pocket felt heavier than lead and gold, Donovan's own mouth becoming dry with anticipation. Why would he now bother to wait? The first students are soon to be starting begin the launch from their platforms, with Weiss being first in the lineup.

_Come on, Weiss, lets go. Impulses aside, we both know that I cannot go this alone._

* * *

Ozpin wasn't the only person to be surprised, but among the few who could understand the significance of what had just happened. After the Schnee Heiress had been launched from her spring platform, the male cat faunus had cased directly after her. But when Donovan jumped off the cliff, he jumped far too high for that jump to be natural. The glider and it's pilot began to fly far too quickly for a glider, and it even seemed that Donovan was actually _gaining _altitude despite _gliding_.

Since when did unpowered flight have the ability to... Well... Gain power? Did physics wake up on the wrong side of the bed today, after flipping gravity the bird?

The headmaster was ready to throw his coffee mug over the cliff to see if the inanimate object would glide as well... But, that would end with an unacceptable loss in three hour old coffee. All the same, this proved that Donovan had the capacity to use his aura as a tool, and perhaps even a weapon if need be. But what Ozpin had noticed, was how much aura Donovan used. The faunus was by no means a small teenager, but when paired with the an unstable glider?

This would prove to Ozpin, if the faunus unit was either blessed with a potent aura, or was simply forced to cannibalize his own aura.

* * *

Catching up to Weiss, the flying cat faunus found himself grinning childishly at his employer. Just as the Heiress was rolling her eyes at her foolish feline, Donovan's face suddenly fell with dread. It took Weiss a moment, but a moment was all she needed to note how the frame of the glider began to crack. Since sound requires stable air to travel, the two teenagers were moving far too quickly to be able to discern any intelligible words from each other. Donovan could only guess at Weiss's words based on the girl's facial expressions. Until his dying breath, Donovan would have liked to think that the person he had effectively grown up with was overcome with concern and emotion for her beloved pet. To die with the memory like none other: where each beautiful crease of Weiss's face, distraught, began to realize how Donovan might die. Here. Now. In this damn forest, where little would be left of his poor, broken body if gravity and Grimm had anything to say about an open casket funeral. Would a faunus unit even get a funeral?

In reality, Weiss was laughing at such a degree that the laughter appeared to be sorrow.

The glider beginning to plummet like a hipster who had just found that the bass could drop, this little faunus unit found himself spinning out of control. Fighting to to level himself out, the most Donovan could now hope for, amounted to a less painful landing. Desperately inspecting his glider, he found that he lost half of the glider's tail. However one would make to slice it, if Donovan valued his life, he would have to land. The airspeed and altitude which gave him his edge and advantage had quickly become a bitterness, in this fall from grace.


	9. Chapter 9

Eyes closed, face down, Donovan found laying on something soft, comfortable, and cool. Atop his back was something rather weighty, and rather well spread out. It was as if he was back in his room, awake before his morning alarm. It had a sort of soothing element to it all, as it suggested that he was still alive.

However, if he were back in his room, it would have meant that he failed. Miserably. He had failed to accompany Weiss, he failed his reluctant mission, and therefore he failed as a faunus unit. Such an outcome would be unacceptable. The only identity that he was sure of for all of his short life, was that he stood to be a faunus unit. No, he was certainly alive, and therefore he had nothing left.

At his first opportunity, he simply would have to kill himself.

With a pen.

With a plastic knife.

To drown himself in a container of water.

To use any sharp fragment of anything hard enough to slice open arteries.

It wasn't due to any sense of honor, but because failure scared him. Not in the act itself, but the consequence. His treatment would worsen tenfold. He would never see Weiss again. He would die a sadistic death at the hands of Mr. Schnee, or from an experiment designed to test the limits of the faunus units.

Donovan simply stood to be a coward when presented with fear. If he had the willpower, he could easily free himself from his situation…

But the faunus simply chose not to.

Opening his eyes tentatively, readying himself mentally for a fight, the teenager saw himself faced with a pleasant surprise. We was merely pinned under his crashed glider, still in the Emerald Forest. Looking over his shoulder, he began to blush bitterly. What did he think the weight of the glider to be, anyways?

At the very least, he was no longer obligated to kill himself – He still remained to be in the Emerald Forest.

Getting himself up to his feet, tossing the mangled frame aside, he looked down at his equipment and clothing. The proud teenager looked like a mess, torn and disheveled. It was as if though he had been in the Grimm infested forest for months, not minutes. Or days, not hours.

How long was he out for, anyways?

There was no point in pondering something that wouldn't alleviate his situation. Drawing and activating his dual weapons into their full blade form, he began to wander through the woods. Wasn't he supposed to find a partner, in this? Oh well. He would be better off alone, anyways, luck would never be kind enough to have him paired with Weiss.

As he continued to move through the bush, Donovan turned the corner at a massive boulder, only to come face to face with a massive Ursa Major. Both of them staring down the other, the confrontation was nearly surreal. Donovan didn't feel afraid, and neither of them seemed to care. For the faunus, Grimm was nothing less than something inconvenient. If the teenager didn't have to deal with any of these strange creatures at all, then he would be a happy child soldier.

However, Donovan knew better than to not take advantage of his given situation. Raising his arm, he quickly brought one of his broadswords across the Ursa Major's neck, only to be presented with another surprise.

Nothing happened. Besides, since when do swords kill holograms? The Ursa major was nothing less than a lightshow.

Something else unexpected also happened. As though the beast was nothing more than a projected image, it began to flicker and ebb as a whole, only to then pulse like a disturbed pool of stale water.

The room was set ablaze with alarms, flashing red lights, and flustered geeks of every sort. The windowless space had only one door, a giant capsule in the middle of the room, and several massive computers around the capsule. Inside that capsule that the author keeps mentioning, floated a particular Donovan, hooked up to several wires, an oxygen mask, and a tube into his neck.

Standing to watch all of this, is a particular Headmaster Ozpin, calmly holding a discussion with a half terrified biology nerd. Trying to understand the situation, the Headmaster started asking questions.

"This is the boy that security found asleep in the suitcase?"

Nodding anxiously, the counterpart of the discussion waiting for the next part.

"So, you people had him jacked up on sedatives, and you wired him into your long term virtual environment… Thing?"

With a heavy stutter, the other man acknowledged Ozpin's second question with another nod.

"It's a good thing that you people are doing your job right. So? What's the problem? Is the Schnee suitcase boy dying?"

Launching himself into a caffeine powered, high speed explanation, the nerd began the true breakdown.

"We tried to test the fight simulation program, but it glitched, and now the subject is waking up. We don't know what to do, and we're detecting massive aura fluctuations inside the capsule, as if the energy is being radiated out in what might eventually turn into deadly pulses. Now don't worry, he won't remember anything after being pulled out of the capsule, and the virtual reality did let us record everything we really need to know about him, based on his reactions to the various scenarios. It didn't help that we had to nearly break the budget in trying to sedate this… Thing."

Thinking on his feet, the Headmaster gave a rapid instruction.

"Get him out of that test tube, and put him in a hospital bed instead. Tell him that we found him dehydrated and unconscious from within an abandoned suitcase, and something about wanting to help find whoever did this to him. I read that report you sent me. If he really does use his aura as a weapon, to compensate for a lack of semblance? Then, we might have a problem on our hands, very soon."

The headmaster's prediction was accurate. Just as he finished speaking, the test tube had suddenly cracked, and the computer closest to the capsule exploded. As a handful of doctors began the daunting task of moving the faunus unit out of the capsule, the Headmaster simply watched.

Their attempt at indefinitely holding this suspicious character within animated suspension for the sake of monitoring his mind in a simulated environment.

It almost worked, but the plan failed. Could Ozpin salvage the situation?

"Remind me…" The professor began to speak again. "… Didn't you say that the system was just a bunch of simulations? Wouldn't a person notice rather quickly?"

Nodding proudly, the short little engineer got back into his element: talking about his accomplishments.

"Absolutely. What makes it convincing to any subject, is that they're in control. Their subconscious minds expects a certain order of events, and the system generates the right environment needed to realistically meet that expectation. Some elements are randomized, others are presented exactly as a person wants. Actually, nearly everything that happens in that environment, is nothing more than their notion of a perfect fantasy. Everything perfectly miserable, with a few inconsequential randomized details."

Frowning, Ozpin summarized the explanation into something that he could easily present to his own superiors.

"You mean, that creature had himself beat up, sexually harassed, dropped from 700 metres above ground level, thrown around in a suitcase, left behind by the only person that mattered to him, and effectively bullied by what would be his peers… Because he wanted this?"

Nodding again with a fervor the same mousy little man confirmed the Headmaster's suspicions.

"Either we have a major masochist on our hands, or the most nervous and insecure teenager since the beginning of time."

Groggy and confused, David nearly rolled out of his hospital bed upon awaking. Once his surroundings shifted into focus after a moment's dizziness, he found himself with a particularly painful headache. Pressing a hand to his temple, the faunus unit began to look around the room.

This had to be the hospital wing of Beacon. It didn't make to serve for any surprise that he was the only person in the whole wing: who else would be foolish enough to end up here before the term's proper start?

Just as his mind was just about to reach beyond himself, to exploit his wireless abilities to call for Weiss's attention via her scroll, the doors of the hospital wing stretched themselves wide open. They made way for a man that the faunus spy had recognized only by a picture that Mr. Schnee had given 0-4-2 with a captioned name.

The headmaster had arrived.

It didn't take long for Ozpin to walk next to Donovan's hospital bed, to pull up a chair, and to sit upon it. Taking the lead in the conversation, the Headmaster was first to speak.

"Have you any idea where I found you, young man?"

The faunus answered by shaking his head, to say no.

"In a large suitcase. And based on the smell of its interior, I'd say you were in that box for at least… Eight hours? Why would you let yourself be put somewhere like that?"

As a matter of fact, it was ten hours. Donovan already had access to the personal files on Ozpin's tablet, at least, the files that weren't encrypted. It would take some effort for the wireless cat to even begin to decipher the protected data, but he knew the time at which he was found. A memo on file mentioned that according to the security cameras, Donovan had been abandoned for quite some time. Factoring the duration of his travels before arriving, he realized that the only part of his day that he could enjoy, would be a small portion of the evening.

"Well… I thought it would be fun, but only under the expectation that it would be brief."

Shaking his head, the headmaster scoffed quietly at the broad foolishness of Donovan's generation.

"The nurse also found something else. Something unique. You didn't say your name, young man? I'm Headmaster Ozpin, of Beacon – And yes, Beacon is where you're at right now."

The faunus simply answered the question.

"My name is u- I mean, my name is Donovan."

In truth, Donovan didn't know which of the two that he should use any more. His name, or his number. The faunus unit knew full well that he was abandoned, as if Weiss had tried to put any effort into finding him, that the teenage girl could exploit his wireless chip to get a rough idea of where he was. With Schnee money and influence, she could have easily had him found.

The brief mistake on Donovan's part, however, was the exact flag that the Headmaster was looking for. The virtual reality system had given Ozpin a perfect, accurate, flawless and expansive profile. Ozpin knew about Donovan's wireless gifts, and simply had a signal jammer kept inside the hospital wing with the WiFi turned off.

"You see, Donovan, what we found was a pair of collapsible broadswords which could be kept in the form of pocket sized brass knuckles. Now, this tells me that you have been experimenting with the sort of thing that I reach at my school here. It's clear that you made these yourself, and I must say; compact weapons of this size are rather advanced for someone your age."

Every word that the headmaster brought to Donovan's ears, had been scripted. What really had happened, was that the suitcase was quickly swept up by Ozpin himself instead of being picked up by Ruby, and brought to the engineers that had been running the virtual reality. For ten straight hours, they pumped a strong gas sedative into the suitcase's air holes, as not to risk him waking up while being moved to the test chamber. The memo containing what Donovan had thought to be the truth, was planted for him to find. The simulated world that the faunus unit had been trapped in truly was effective in unraveling the mystery of Donovan… But what would the headmaster do with this knowledge?

Finding no lie in the headmaster's words, Donovan decided to go right to the point.

"You want to enroll me in your school, and you're willing to stroke my ego until I accept?"

Chuckling, Ozpin said the only thing he could say.

"Yes, Donovan, that's exactly right."

The answer would be one that both Ozpin and Donovan expected to hear.

"Alright. I'll join and study at this campus of yours."

After telling Donovan as to where he and the other students would be sleeping within a short period of time, and repeating to the new student the same welcome that he gave everyone else, the Headmaster left. Ozpin now had everything he wanted, why would he linger?

Once the faculty member had left the room, began to get up from the hospital bed, while speaking to himself.

"It's not like I've got anything better to do."

Meanwhile, the headmaster of Beacon began to walk down the halls of his beautifully well-constructed school. While Donovan was certainly no longer in the delusive virtual environment, the teenager was most certainly no longer in any level of control: between Weiss, Ozpin, and Mr. Schnee, Donovan simply didn't have a fourth control stick. The headmaster was surprised as to how simple it was to have a teenager fooled, and a false memo drafted. Alone in his thoughts, the Ozpin would be unaware of the irony he had unwittingly created.

"At this rate, Schnee industries won't have any secrets left to hide from Vale and Beacon. To this very day, I've had a perfect record in the creation of double agents."


End file.
